It was only a game, but Van winced every time it
happened and he couldn't stop himself from making the comparisons
between the brothers—bringing a painful reminder of his previous
partner. Not only did they share the same gene pool, but also the
same gracefulness. Van blinked several times, watching transfixed as
Deaq's long fingers effortlessly dribbled the ball left then right.
Cursing to himself, Van redoubled his efforts to focus on the game at
hand.

Instinctively, his body moved and countered then
fell in-sync with Deaq's movements. Van moved closer; crouched low,
Deaq dribbled closer affectively avoiding Van's attempts to block
and steal the ball. A quick fake to the right enabled Deaq to fully
turn around on his left foot—duck and push forward into a lay-up. A
jump even Jordan wouldn't frown at.

The ball bounced between the backboard and the
rim before it circled the rim, then a soft swoosh of the ball pushed
through the net, another two points.

"Wooooooo, capture that white boy!"

"Yea, yea." Van grimaced as he took the
ball.

"No yea-yea's about it—this one's a
sealed deal."

"Oh yea?" Van held the ball tight, "Care
to make it interesting?"

"More interesting than beating your white
ass?" Deaq inquired laughing as he turned to dance a two-step jig
wiggling his ass in Van's direction more than pleased with his
performance.

"Haha… " Van deadpanned. "Think a month
of reports would be interesting?"

Deaq stopped and turned around. Then started
laughing in earnest, clapping his hands then waving them as if
dismissing the idea.

"No? HA! Make that two months… two months of
writing the lead and finale report for Billie."

"You crazy? Remember you… you're the white
boy that CAN'T jump."

Van stubbornly shook his head and defiantly held
up two fingers silently egging Deaq on.

Finally Deaq stopped laughing long enough to
realize Van was serious. "You want a piece of me, huh…two months,
right?" Deaq walked over to his partner, smiling. "And it's you
doing the work, no excuses, or trying to charm your way out of it…"

"Hey I'm the one who named the stakes… now
you in or NOT?" Van challenged.

Deaq nodded his head, "Yea, I could use the
free time. Twenty-one?"

Van nodded, pleased then dribbled the ball and
passed it over to Deaq, "I'll even let you take it out." He
added with a smirk.

Deaq grinned and shook his head, not exactly
sure what had gotten into his partner, but he wasn't about to
ignore the 'get out of work' pass Van was offering.
"Fine." Deaq dribbled as he trotted over to the baseline, paused
and asked, "Just remember you started this."

Deaq didn't waste any time and immediately
scored—it wasn't until ten points later, laughing while dancing
the Hayes jig that Deaq honestly started to really notice Van's
posture. For a game the boy stood ridged, intense with an underlined
hostility that poured off his partner. Under normal circumstances
during or right after a big case he would have understood, the need
to channel festering emotions from a case into a game. A commonality
they both shared and did often to let off steam and stress of the
job—along with the getting to know thing, but this what Van was
doing, this was different.

First, their last two cases were outrageously
ridiculous since they were dealing with idiots. At the same time
acquisitions for the Candy store was substantial with almost
nonexistent danger compared to their usual undercover dance. Add to
that no drama or emotional entanglements with the marks around Van to
cloud the issue. A pattern Van seemed to have a habit of doing with
the mark on most cases. Something Deaq quickly learned that Van's
tendency toward 'entanglements' had preceded their
partnership. Which he still had a difficult time getting a handle on,
and couldn't help but wonder how Dre had handled those situations
with Van.

Reacting on autopilot, Deaq shifted and moved;
dribbling to the left then the right until suddenly he was thrown out
of his private contemplation as Van's body deliberately slammed
into him in an effort to block the shot; the ball forgotten as it was
stolen out of his hands. The sound of his body falling the floor hard
drowned out the sounds of the basket and Van's first points.

The word, 'Foul' was on the
tip of his tongue, but a quick glance at Van changed his mind. The
boy didn't smile, tease, or shimmy a dance at his win, instead his
body had stayed intense and tight as it had been the entire game.
Something was seriously wrong—what he didn't know, but he'd
damned if he didn't find out before the game was over.

"Need a hand?" The question pulled Deaq out
of his thoughts only to stare at the hand in front of him. Still
pissed, Deaq wanted to ignore the gesture, but this was Van and even
if they've only known each other for the last six months his
initial judgment stood, 'Van was good people'.
Accepting the hand, Deaq allowed Van to help him.

"Thanks." A slight nod was his only response
before Van walked over to take the ball out.

Deaq bit the inside of his cheek to stop his
natural inclination to get into the boys face, and find out what the
hell was going on in that screwed up head of his—But what really
pissed him off even more was why he didn't notice anything before
now. The stakes of the game forgotten, Deaq continued to play on
autopilot as he racked his brain recalling everything that had
happened in the last few days that might account for Van's
behavior.

Deaq immediately dismissed anything older than
last week. One thing he was fairly certain about was that Van wasn't
one to successfully hide his emotions for any given length of time.
Instead he wore them like a badge, and in their line of work, it was
either a curse or a gift. For Van it was a gift. Van's ability to
convincingly lie and intertwine blend his own emotional truths with
his undercover persona was almost artistic. It was one of the reasons
Deaq believed Van was so successful in the job. Also probably why he
always ended up falling for a mark, or the mark falling for him. Van
didn't just role-play the part of a thug, like him did, Van's
prior experience of criminal life wasn't just a modeled formula to
use to put the bad guys behind bars, but a real extension of his
life.

Deaq admitted Van's experience and knowledge
ran deeper than his ever did. His own, criminal past was nothing more
than rebellion; a teenager who rebelled against his family. It just
happened that his family was the cops. Though by that time Pop had
retired, and Dre a rookie with the LAPD, marked Dre as the fourth
generation in the Hayes family to continue the tradition. Their
family conflict exploded when Dre busted Deaq five months before his
eighteenth birthday, and spent those months in juvie hall. At the
time he was an angry wanta be thug, anything be different from Pop
and Dre. Once he was released, Deaq ran off to New York, and in time
did everything he fought against by joining the NYPD. Eight and half
years, and nine Christmas' later, Deaq had still refused to swallow
his hurt and anger toward Dre until it was too late.

Van's upbringing was almost the polar
opposite. Where Deaq's middle class family was all about law
enforcement, Van's -from the wrong side of the tracks- family
walked on the other side of the law.

With another shove Deaq tried to concentrate;
with each point Van became more violent, bodily shoving Deaq in order
to steal the ball. What should have been a friendly game between
partners suddenly became a battlefield. The score stood Deaq,
sixteen, Van, ten and he was no closer to figuring out what was
wrong. Any small talk he initiated was met with grunts, and 'shut
and play' platitudes.

The longer and fiercer the game got, the more
Deaq started to unintentionally and intentionally push back; his own
anger being fueled with each added bruise he acquired from Van's
body slams or pointy elbows.

The tension increased, sweat glistened and
poured off their bodies as the continued to battle for the ball. Van
had the ball with Deaq blocking his shot. With each move, Van tried
to make, pivoting around to find an opening—Deaq defensively used
his height to effortlessly block. Frustrated, Van moved back
dribbling trying to reset up a shot, but Deaq was there for each
maneuver forcing Van even further back.

Angry, Van retreated and tried again and again;
his footwork quick flawless just not faster or effective against
Deaq. Van's hair was soaked, sweat dripped into his eyes burning
still he pushed on elbowing pushing his way toward the basket.
Without thinking he dribbled to the left then the right just as he
had seen Deaq do a dozen times. Only when Deaq easily followed, Van
arched his elbow up to connect with Deaq's face then ducked turned
and moved into a layout just making the basket.

"Van!" Billie shouted. Taken aback by what
she just saw, "Someone want to explain what the hell is going on
here?"

The room was suddenly silent, only their heavy
breathing and the hollow dribble of the ball as it rolled until it
finally came to a stop.

Van hunched over trying to gather his breath.
Unfettered anger coursed through his body, a slight tilt of his head
he saw Deaq still sitting on the floor, blood dripping from the cut
near his eye—where Van's elbow connected.

Closing his eyes, Van knew he had to get out of
there… and quickly before the dam he had carefully constructed
burst.

Deaq just sat there staring at his partner like
he had gone crazy because from Deaq's position he had.

Abruptly Van moved quickly to leave not stopping
as Billie called out after him.

Deaq sat stunned, and started to wonder if Van
was schizophrenic because for the life of him he couldn't figure
out what the hell had just happened or why.

Deaq didn't know how long he sat there, but
was suddenly brought back to reality as Billie silently started to
clean his cut. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't yelling
or hounding him about what happened; she already knew.

"Ok you want to share and explain to me what
the hell that was about cause I gotta tell ya I'm starting to think
he's gone around the bend."

Billie paused, opened then closed her eyes
before she reopened them to stare steadily at Deaq. "I just
noticed… it's February 9th, when they hooked up."

At Deaq's puzzled look, Billie continued,
"When they started working together…"

Billie didn't say it, Deaq knew and his heart
ached as he thought of Dre, and he flashed back to those first few
days when he met Van. His instincts about Van were right on the money
then as they were now and his own words replayed in his head, 'I
don't like you, but you're good people and you Love my brother…'

And it was truth then and now; they, Van and Dre
were close, family. Closer than he had ever been with Dre for the
last eight years. If he, his parents, or the rest of his family,
weren't over Dre's death why would he ever expect Van who Deaq
knew still partly blamed himself for Dre's death— and Deaq had
said/done nothing over the last six months to rectify Van's guilt.
"Fuck!" Deaq whispered.

Deaq slowly moved to stand. Hesitantly Billie
stopped him and sternly asked, "Am I going to have to recruit or
transfer anyone?"

Startled Deaq firmly answered, "NO!" then
paused and lowered his voice before heading for the door. "We're
good—partners… just gonna have to remind him of that."

Smiling Billie nodded pleased as she watched
Deaq take after Van and muttered to herself. "Yea, you do
that."

FiN

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